


A Blue Moon

by UzbekistanRules



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Pining, Pre-Recall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 23:55:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8554675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UzbekistanRules/pseuds/UzbekistanRules
Summary: There are many ghosts that linger in Jesse's mind. Some are harder to access than others.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE shout out to [bonebo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/pseuds/bonebo) for betaing this. Also I've never seen much with Winston in it so... here you go!

After Overwatch... after Overwatch well... the world kinda shit the bed. Jesse McCree was a by-product of said bed shitting- Deadlock raised, Blackwatch trained, bounty hunter extraordinaire. He was living hand to mouth, sure; but why not? There was no one, no thing, and no place pressing him for his time. Only ghosts haunted his memories. A place full of laughing ghosts; a graveyard with somber ghosts, hovering over a ghost coffin. A smell here brings back a proud woman with graying hair and a young, bright-eyed girl. A flick of someone's wrist morphs into a sleek-suited man with a green and gray helmet. A snatch of conversation... and a deep laugh nearly completes the picture of a tall Latino male scowling at him, dark eyes narrowed, _what are you doing vaquero you’re supposed to be running laps-_

 

He has to run from that particular ghost. It’s way too damn painful for a memory.

 

For one particular ghost, all he had to do is wait for nightfall and look up.

 

Jesse had never been close to Winston. Two sides of the same coin, two different disciplines, two methods of bringing about world peace. And yet... he always found excuses to try and chat with Winston whenever the planets aligned and their worlds crossed. Despite his upbringing- or maybe because of it- Jesse had always found science fascinating. Who hadn't heard of the talking gorilla and the Horizon Lunar Colony? Winston was world famous and yet... he didn't seem to even notice it. He just thought that anyone could become just as famed- if not more so- if they worked hard enough. He saw the potential in everything and yeah... Jesse had needed that wide-eyed idealism in his youth. He still needed it some days if he was being honest with himself.

 

The moon was perfect. Halfway full, halfway empty. Two sides of the same coin. The next few days would tell if it would be waxing- because you wax elegant, Agent McCree- or waning- and you wane when you're tired of speaking. That's how Winston had explained it to him. That's how he remembered it. Damn. The scientist- never ‘gorilla’ or ‘ape’- got to him more than he thought. He could remember half a dozen facts about the moon all off the top of his head. He had to shake them off though. Now was not the time for space trivia; this was a time for thought.

 

He looked to the moon and tried to picture the disciplined scientist. Well, first he had to picture a gorilla and- what did they look like again? Shit, this was gonna be hard. 

 

Alright. What would he look like as a man?

 

Tall. Broad. Heavy with fat but there would be muscle underneath. Dark skin, darker than Reyes, midnight black with hair to match. Hazel eyes though. Strong jaw, thick brow ridge, a flat nose. Full lips. But... There would be a grace about that frame, an intelligence in those eyes, a wonder in his tenor voice. _"See the world for what it could be."_ It was hard to do. More and more these days, all he saw was the underside of the world's grossest ass. It was huge and hairy and he didn't want to touch it, but someone had to pop all of the pimples that kept cropping up.

 

Jesse sighed and leaned back. He wondered how Winston was doing. If he went back there, up to the moon, far above mere mortals. If he was still down here, what was he doing? He wasn't doing anything publicly or else it would be blowing up the news reels. Maybe he finally retired from the spotlight. Maybe he was dead- always a possibility. The thought pained him and he pushed it away. Be a mighty damn shame if another member of Overwatch fell.

 

Jesse flicked open his lighter, coaxed a flame to life and took a drag at the cigarillo that had been dangling unlit from his lips for a long spell. The cloying taste was perfect- sweet and powerful. He could almost hear Angie getting onto him about this particular bad habit, and smiled at the memory. He had always meant to quit, but never could kick it. And after Switzerland... 

 

Jesse shook his head- enough. Too many ghosts swirling around in his head tonight. He was focusing on the one for right now.

 

Winston. He could chatter at you a mile a minute and yet you'd still be able to follow his logic- swirls of ideas and formulas, complicated and beautiful. Bits and pieces of history and random trivia thrown into the mix just because he could, a symphony of half-baked ideas and absolute, boundless wonder. It was always a treat to hear him lecture about this or that, even if no one could understand him most of the time.

 

And then there were the moments where he astounded everyone. How he figured out just what in the hell had happened to Lena. How to keep her in the here and now. How he made improvements on even the most basic of tech. How he could delicately place the tiniest of microprocessors into a masterwork of a motherboard before hefting his plasma cannon like it was nothing. 

 

An ache settled into Jesse’s chest, crawled up his throat, threatened to swallow him up. He should try and track everyone down. It would be difficult but maybe he could just-

 

His pocket began to buzz and chirrup with a nearly-forgotten melody.

 

He looked down to said pocket as it continued the jaunty little tune- a remix from the late 2020s of a song older than that still. His prosthetic moved almost of its own will, pushing itself slowly into the cotton and polyester and coming back up with a communicator.

 

An Overwatch communicator.

 

An Overwatch communicator that was signaling that it should be answered _right now._

 

It took him nearly five tries before he managed to put in his password and pull up the holovid. It hurt his eyes, it was so bright against the backdrop of the empty night. There was absolutely no mistaking the two people who were staring at his face, bright and eager as always.

 

“Well hell, darlin’s. There are easier ways of contacting an old cowboy you know.” Jesse smiled at the way that Lena pushed her cheek out and Winston simply adjusted his glasses.

 

“If I could have, I would have hunted you down ages ago!” Lena said, seemingly put out with Jesse’s statement.

 

“Be that as it may,” Winston interrupted before any further discussion could ensue, “Agent Jesse McCree. I am reinstating Overwatch. The time for heroes has come once again. Are you...” There was a nervous air to Winston’s face and voice. “Will you come back?”

 

Jesse took a long drag of his cigarillo and snuffed it out on the ground beside him. “Shoot. Ain’t got nothing better t’do other than t’hide from bounty hunters. Count me in.”

\- - - - -

Three days later, on the train ride up to Gibraltar Jesse looked up. The moon was fuller than it had been in past nights. He laughed, startling the two other people who were in the carriage with him.

 

Waxing.

 

Overwatch coming together again.

 

Coincidence? Absolutely. Fortuitous? Definitely.

 

It would be good to be among friends again.


End file.
